


Hunter of Monsters

by FereldenChantryBoy



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, More tags later, Supernatural Beings, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 16:12:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10312100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FereldenChantryBoy/pseuds/FereldenChantryBoy
Summary: Cullen is a hunter, seeking no fame, no glory, only to save the world from the abominations within. A recent witch hunt sees him crossing paths with the moon elf Shava. Together, they'll make their mark on the world.





	1. Chapter 1

Cullen stared at the items on display. Pale imitations, no, his current arsenal would suffice. The road had left him too weary to call the man on his fakes, he had to reach a safe location before the werewolves came out in packs. He wasn’t prepared to handle a full assault on this night, not without a full pack of supplies. That was saying precious little about the other creatures that called moonlit nights there domain. He did one last check on his gear. Armor was still in good condition, his sword, freshly blessed and sharpened, shield pristine, save for a few scratches on the front. He made adjustments to the white band fastened around his collar, sweeping a hand through his hair. He pulled it back into a loose ponytail, walking out the door into the night. Despite the danger, this was his best chance of finding the witch he was hunting, a woman of immense power, said to be kidnapping children and using their blood to fuel her power, the kind of creature that demanded to be brought to justice.

The barest hint of trails were swallowed in the shadows cast off spindly trees, branches dying and thin, like the bony fingers of the undead, cringing ominously in the silvery light. Cullen kept a firm grip on the hilt of his sword, always seconds from drawing it at the first sign of trouble. This life had left him more than a little prepared to face danger at every turn, thankfully he got the drop on more of his foes than the reverse. It was some far distance down the road before he was nearing the village he intended to seek shelter in for the night, still a little further, a commotion calling his attention away from his plans. A group of men descending on a lone woman, another commanding them from a safe distance. He could hear it even from here, rough her up if you must, but bring her to me alive. Clearly caught off guard, the woman lashed out, limbs flailing wildly, landing a couple of heavy kicks, hands tinged in red from the gashes torn into whatever exposed skin she could reach.

The woman giving the orders wore a wooden pendant around her neck, a scar above her left eye. That was her, the target he was sent to dispatch. Fortune smiled on him this night, he’d get his witch and save an innocent in the process, he always liked when he was able to save lives where he could. He moved with a speed uncommon to mere humans, crossing the distance, his blade slicing through her spine in a matter of moments, her pained screeching summoning her lackeys away from the woman towards the source. One by one, he fended off his new attackers, bashing his shield out to stun them first, slashing through until he ended in a circle of bodies. Cullen turned, setting fire to the witch’s corpse, the one sure way to deal with the possibility of revival. Well, most witches, anyway. Some were stronger, more trouble to be rid of, and required more precision. This was not one of the worst ones, thankfully. He wiped down his blade, sheathing it before approaching the woman. She backed away from him nervously, though she halted when he held out his hand to her.

“Amin’m n’uma crona a’lle…” she mumbled faintly.

Elven? The hood draped loosely around her head obscured her features, but the language alone said she was. He shook his head, indicating he didn’t quite understand, trying to assuage her fears.

“I’m not here to hurt you. Come, it’s dangerous out here, I’ll take you somewhere safe.” he told her.

Her pale eyes fixed on him suspiciously, though she finally relented, reaching for his hand. He pulled her to her feet, and she followed a few steps behind him.

“Th...thank you.” she said, struggling on the words in a way that said she wasn’t as well versed in the common tongue.

“It’s no trouble. Did they hurt you?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the path.

The forest at night was as much a danger as the things lurking in it, often the result of magical beings playing tricks, changing the paths if you looked away for even a moment.

“No...I’m fine.” she answered.

Sharing space was awkward for him, he didn’t like to if he could help it. Too much danger in it, possibilities of attacks, and trying to protect someone else meant his already poor sleep got just a little bit worse. Still, he was in this business to help others, and she didn’t look like she had anything of value on her, let alone any money. The inn wasn’t much farther now, in view just at the edge of the next village.

“You can room with me for the night. It’ll be safer for you in the morning.” he told her, a rough edge to his voice.

“Diolla lle” she said, trying to think of the words. “Thank you, again.”

She didn’t want to explain to him that it was more dangerous for her kind during the day, instead feeling a sense of gratitude to him for helping her at all. Humans were not usually so welcoming of others, as she had both seen and heard

“There’s no need for that.” he told her, pushing open the door to the small building.

Cullen slid a small pouch of coins across the counter, holding up two fingers. The man behind the counter narrowed his eyes, looking at his companion, otherwise covered, except for a length of long, silvery-white locks draped down her front.

“What is she?” he asked suspiciously.

Cullen frowned, not expecting to run into any problems already. “Elven woman.”

“She yours?” he asked again. “If not, she can’t stay. Policy is not to serve elves.”

He carded a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Yes, she’s mine.”

It was a lie, but he couldn’t very well turn her away after he already said she could stay. She said nothing about it, looping her arm through his in an attempt to make it more convincing.

“Room at the far end of the hall, left side. I better not catch her outside that room by herself, or I’ll throw her out myself.” he grumbled.

“You won’t.” he assured him.

He walked the short hall with her, pushing open the door and locking it. He let go of her arm, reaching for another pouch on his belt, dusting the edge of the door and the windows with a mixed powder, to ensure that spirits and demons wouldn’t be able to get in. Wouldn’t do anything against werewolves, witches or anything else that might be tempted to attack. Cullen withdrew his blade, wiping it down with a heavy sigh. The girl shed her cowl, full waves and braids tumbling free, her skin almost glowing white. He looked up, sweeping dark patterns curling across her cheeks, over her eyes, down her nose, dotted marks and stripes along her ears, over her lower lip. Her eyes were pallid blue, flecked with gold, clearly elven, but he hadn’t seen her kind before.

“I realize this may be a strange question, but what are you, and what is your name?” he wondered.   
Tearing his focus away from her face, he wiped away the last of the blood, tossing the cloth to the trash. Giving it a quick examination, he sheathed it once more, staring at the scarred surface of the table.

“Shava. That’s my name.” she mumbled. “I am a moon elf.”

Shava pointed to the roof, as if trying to indicate she came from up there. Cullen looked her over again, more attentively this time. It would certainly explain her unusual appearance, but at the same time, he hadn’t really been aware there were elves on the moon.

“I see. Well, you learn something all the time.” he mused.

“You’re a hunter, are you not? You went after the witch, and these powders, they’re to ward against demons.” she observed quietly.

“You’re familiar with hunters then?” he asked.

“A little. Healing is my speciality, but…” she frowned, staring at her hands. “Please don’t send me away, I can be useful, I promise!”

His brows drew tightly together, thinking about it for a moment. “Something happened, right? You didn’t just come here because you wanted to, did you?”

She shook her head, not looking to him. “I was exiled. The high priest fell ill, and I went into the sacred chamber to tend to him. That is against the rules, women are not allowed inside, and not to touch the clerics, I saved his life, but by breaking those rules, I was cast out.”

“What makes you think I can use your assistance?” he said, pouring a glass of water. “I’ve done fine on my own so far.”

Shava bowed her head apologetically, crossing the room, kneeling next to him. “With all due respect to your skill, I’ve witnessed creatures I’m certain even you have never encountered, and more than that, I can heal the wounds they inflict, erase the poisons and protect against hostile magics that human eyes have never seen. I can even identify a shifter in the form of another by the energy they emit. I can do these things. What I cannot do is walk freely in your lands.”

She made a fair point. Even if he let her go, there was a good chance she’d be taken some place undesirable simply because of what she was. He didn’t help her to condemn her to a short life of misery and danger. Still, it meant extra expenses for supplies and taking care of her as well as himself. Perhaps he’d give her a chance to prove herself, and if she proved to be more than he could handle, there were safe places far to the north he could take her.

“Very well. You may follow me, at least for now.” he told her. “My name is Cullen.”

Her pale eyes went wide, a hand lightly reaching to press to cover his mouth, shaking her head. “Don’t tell me. It’s dangerous. Don’t you realize there are powerful creatures who only need a name to cause harm?”

He of course knew that, but he could sense nothing nearby. Beyond that, it made him uncomfortable to have to be referred to as something like ‘you’ for however long they kept company together. She lowered her hand, feeling around the ragged insides of her tattered cloak, grabbing a strange bird mask, of a kind that hadn’t been seen for centuries. Shava held it up curiously.

“I can help. I can lend my services for money, right? If I wear this while I work, no one will ever have to know what I am.” she explained.

Where she even got her hands on one of those, he couldn’t begin to imagine. That she was willing to work to help out was one less worry on his mind. That still left protecting her to concern himself with.

“If you intend to follow me, I must insist you learn how to use a sword, at the very least. There will be times I can’t keep my eye on you, and it doesn’t matter how good you are at healing if you can’t defend yourself long enough to do so.” he told her, leaving no room for argument.

“Where will I learn such a skill on the road?” she asked quietly.

“When we stop for the night, I will teach you a little at a time. There’s a weaponsmith in the village, I will purchase you a blade tomorrow.” he said. “I don’t have much at the moment, but I suppose you must be hungry. Come, sit with me. I’ve talked far too much, I’d like to hear more of you.”

 


	2. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An amalgamation of angry souls and negative experience attacks and desperate measures are called for.

Cullen questioned her on the mask finally, the next night. Shava hesitated to answer at first, instead turning her attention to the shelves of books in the archive they’d taken a break in. Slim fingers curled delicately around the spine, slowly flipping through the pages as though any faster, any firmer, and the pages would crumble. It wasn’t in fragile condition, but it was her way to be gentle in all she did, it seemed. Her fingertips halted on a page, sweeping across it almost fondly, tracing the edges of the picture in the book. She handed it over nervously, as if concerned what he might think of it. Cullen accepted the tome, looking at the picture. He read the description, the language long out of use, probably for centuries. It took time to process the meaning, though it appeared to describe an artistic rendering of the ‘Goddess Bona’, “ _Salvatore di Roma, benedetto dai cieli_ ” - Savior of Rome, blessed by the heavens. The date on the picture was estimated to be around the 1600s. Two hundred years earlier.

“What is this?” he asked.

“I came down once before. In secret. The suffering I could sense was so great I could not bear it. I spent my days weeping for the people. I found a man, dead in this outfit, and I wore it, healed the sick. It was nicer then, the humans were so grateful, they believed I’d come from the heavens to save them. They...never knew what I was.” she explained, her words delivered slowly and hesitantly as she struggled to find the correct words, hoping her meaning came across. “I _can_ help.”

Cullen regarded her suspiciously for a moment. “I don’t buy it. That would make you at least two hundred years old.”

Shava gave a solemn nod, her eyes brimming with honesty. “ _Two hundred and forty six._ I am but a child among my people. We were once thought to be immortal. The first of us lived for two thousand years before they perished. Ron naa sal’ yassen lye.”

He normally wasn’t one to take note of appearances, it wasn’t part of his job. Shava was an exception, she fascinated him, and the longer he observed her, the more he was beginning to believe he’d made a good choice. She was an open book, her emotions plainly displayed in her movements, in her eyes. Shava held nothing back from him, and perhaps it was because she believed he truly saved her life that she seemed to have an absolute trust in him. Elves were usually considered to be unusually attractive, almost ethereally so, and she was no exception to that. The unique tones in her hair, her eyes, and the moonbeam glow of her skin had a way of making him want to look at her. She was no distraction to his duties, to him, she was like a work of art. Her eyes fixed on his curiously, her head dropping after a moment, drawing her hood up.

“Naa lle tereva yassen amin, raa?” she asked quietly.

“I’m not sure I understand.” he sighed.

Shava quietly searched her palms like they might offer her guidance on how to word it effectively. “Are you...fine with me?”

She was worried he was upset with her? He couldn’t imagine he was giving that impression, but perhaps to her, she perceived it differently, more deeply. “Yes. You’ve not done anything to offend.”

She tensed visibly, her form growing rigid in her seat, pupils drawing tighter as she looked around. “Huine naa sinome...we are not alone.”

Cullen rose from his seat, drawing his blade slowly. He could sense nothing out of the ordinary, but he took her word for it. She held a hand up towards him, shaking her head. “That won’t help. _Tinechor_!”

Seeing he didn’t understand, she scrambled towards him, tugging at the shield on his back. She couldn’t figure out how to free it from him, and his reaction was too slow. A hulking figure loomed over him, almost materializing out of nowhere. It was formless, a being that had no defined shape, shifting swirls like the night sky rolling in wisps. One hand curled around his throat, lifting him off the ground, the other reaching for his chest. Shava bit her lip, legs spreading apart to balance her weight more efficiently. It was one of the first things he had taught her in the lessons. Her hands began to glimmer with a blinding energy, spreading slowly apart. Her skills were not offensive, but if she could just channel it differently…

The creature paid her no mind, one wispy finger digging through his robes, into his chest. His pained cries resonated in every fiber of her being, waves of pain flowing through her, an unfortunate part of being so in tune with the pain of others. She let up on her control of the growing ball of energy, releasing it towards the being. It connected, erupting with intense energy, but it seemed only a minor inconvenience. Recognition flooded her senses, gritting her teeth aggressively.

“Amin sinta mani lle naa!” she growled.

It didn’t stop its assault on Cullen, though it finally directed its attention towards her, like it too, recognized her.

“Dethola amin!” she pleaded.

The creature removed its wispy claw from his chest, flinging him across the room. He collided with a shelve of books, deathly pale. Dropping to her toes, she lowered herself to the ground, her canines digging into the flesh of her wrist, fingers sweeping through the blood. She moved with an agility that was hard to track with human eyes, marking the beast with her blood. It was painful, but the only memory she had of how to deal with something like this. Her eyes flashed with determination, hands forming hasty, elegant patterns in the air, once more blasting it with energy. The spell took this time, the creature melting into nothingness, not dead, but deterred. Her chest heaved with exertion, turning her gaze to Cullen once more. Rushing to his side, she put her hand over the wound, darkness seeping visibly from the grievous hole. She had no time to think about this, it had to happen, or he would die. She pressed her lips to his ear, hoping he could still hear her.

“Amin hiraetha, Cullen…” she murmured.

Too weakened to lift him properly, she had no choice but to drag him outside, silently thankful that night had fallen. She let him down easily under the moonlight, kneeling beside him. She leaned closer to him, a breath away from his lips, eyes cast with sorrow.

“Sana mani lle anta…” she begged.

Her lips pressed firmly to his, any sense of shyness put away in favor of trying to save his life. He was still beneath her, but it was not hopeless, it felt as though the air was leaving her lungs, her already drained strength wavering uncertainly. It felt like an eternity had passed in the span of seconds before his eyes flared open, staring up at her, awareness slowly flowing into him that she was kissing him. She could give no more, drawing back from him, gasping for air.

“Shava, what did you do?” he asked.

She had no chance to answer, collapsing in a heap against his chest. He felt for a pulse, feeling the weak, thready beat in her throat. Groaning uncomfortably, he carefully moved her from him, pushing himself to stand before scooping her up. He stumbled to the nearest inn, tossing a bag of coins to the counter, prepared to ignore any inquiries. Thankfully, there were none this time, only a hasty dash to open the door for him. He collapsed with her to the bed, standing once more to protect the room.

* * *

  
Three days later, Shava finally awoke. She rubbed at her eyes with a soft whine, looking around. Cullen was awake, seated beside the bed with his eyes on her. It looked as though he had barely slept, though she couldn’t say why.

“Good, you’re awake!” he frowned at the eager tone in his words. “I’m...relieved.”

“You were in pain. I...felt it.” she mumbled.

“I’m fine now. Do you...feel well enough to explain?” he asked.

Standing up, he shuffled to the small pantry, bringing back a wooden tray of fruit, cheese and meat, the only thing he could manage to secure in this town. He set it on the stand next to the bed, and she reached hesitantly for a piece of the fruit.

“There is a tale. I’d thought it only a child’s story, about the souls of those who went before, those who were deemed too wicked to be spared. They say it swelled with souls, held together by the negativity in their hearts. It seeks to swallow more spirits into it, and it is not above taking them from still living bodies.” she explained. “I...think it might have been drawn to me and targeted you by accident.”

“And...what did you do?” he asked again.

Her lips foundered, trying to explain, her expression almost guilty. “The blood is where our power flows. I used it to channel my magic into something useful. You were nearly dead, I shared myself with you.”

“I don’t understand what that means…” he said, brow furrowed.

“It damaged your soul. I shared some of mine to fix it. I didn’t have time to ask for your permission...it may be a problem for you.” she sighed.

“Explain it to me clearly, please.” he groaned.

“Our souls are linked now. If you die...I won’t be far behind. If I die, you’ll join me soon enough. We share a bond now that cannot be severed. It would not have been my first choice, but it was the only choice.” she said, a hint of apologetic nervousness seeped through her features and into her words.

He needed time to think it through. Nothing could be done to change it now, but it left him reeling. There was no sense in asking to be left alone. It seemed more of a risk to himself as well as to her now. Still, she did save him, as she claimed she could. She healed something that would have otherwise been impossible, done exactly what she professed. There were worse fates than being bound to her, he could think of at least a dozen off the top of his head.


End file.
